


light-bodied

by windingwoods



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, FatT Femslash Week 2018, Post-Canon, discussion of canonical death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 20:43:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15421218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windingwoods/pseuds/windingwoods
Summary: A toast to issues avoided.





	light-bodied

**Author's Note:**

> i love salary/caroline but i've always been... lowkey dissatisfied with how little screentime their respective situations got after both losing so much? it's the fate of many NPCs but that's what fic's for. 
> 
> prompt: dancing

Sometimes, or some nights maybe, the memories are a touch too strong, too vivid, for her to put them to sleep under the warm, velvet blanket of whatever wine she and Salary have managed to get their hands on while someone wasn’t looking the right way. The absence, she figures, is too much of an elephant in the room: so much alike Carolyn even in that, the constant overflow of energy now a dried up river filling Caroline to the brim with mire. 

“It’ll be two years since my sister’s death soon,” she says to no one in particular. The room’s only illuminated by the flickering light of a candle and the partial darkness helps— voicing it, voicing this thing that’s writhing under her skin like a bug ready to shred its chrysalis, but it’s still complicated to meet Salary’s gaze after she’s let it out. “An evil void nun killed her.”

The yellow of Salary’s eyes catches the light for a second, cat-like to the point it’s on the edge of uncanny, and for a split second Caroline can see every little sign of what does a too dangerous game put in the hands of a child do. Then Salary gets up from the wicker chair (it’s easy to picture every indent the pattern’s left on the soft material of her dress, so alike the dips in her skin Caroline’s thumbs leave), walks up to their bed with quiet steps closer to a dance backlit by the candle. 

“I lost family that night, too,” she states, matter-of-factly as she sits down again, this time by Caroline’s side. “Some to your sister, I think. I was out cold.”

The light quivers, made of pudding on the wall behind them, and Caroline breathes out as Salary draws her knees to her chest. A little girl, a harmless game. Lest the heat catch you standing still. 

Caroline can see her toes curl under the hem of her dress as she says, “man, what a  _ fucked  _ night that was. Don’t know about you, but I’m going to get wasted on the anniversary. You think I can get Aubrey to slip us some of the good stuff Samot makes?”

There’s a lilting quality to her voice, something Caroline’s learnt to associate with deliberate, reckless breeziness, but the most selfish part of her wants to believe Salary will drop that last defense around her one day in their hazy future together. She’s got no reason to doubt that, not with the way Salary’s fingers find hers, rough and firm against her skin and far more thrilling than any of their running around the streets of the City of First Light with the Golden Lance close behind. They know the right steps for that, and for this too; they can learn a calmer rhythm. 

“Yeah, godly liquor sound good to me.” 


End file.
